


Stars

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando is an up-and-coming singer, Daniel is a bodyguard. They spend long nights together on tour buses, traveling cross-country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beautiful ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetila (AwakeMySoul)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwakeMySoul/gifts).



> Inspired by [this photo](http://caras-de-pecas.livejournal.com/172147.html) at [Caras de Pecas](http://caras-de-pecas.livejournal.com).

“Are you ready?” Daniel Agger asked. He could hear the feverish screams coming from the other side of the heavy-duty door of the arena.

Fernando Torres rubbed his hands together. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“God, are they still there? It’s nearly midnight for crying out loud,” Xabi Alonso groaned as he distributed everyone’s passports and plane tickets.

Steven Gerrard rubbed his partner’s back. “Now, now, everyone. They’ve all been waiting out there for the last hour. So Fernando, walk slowly and give everyone a nice, big smile.”

“Like fuck that’s gonna happen,” Daniel snorted. He fixed Fernando under his steely gaze. “I am basically hauling you out there and we are running straight for the van, do you understand?”

Fernando glanced from Daniel to Stevie. Who do you follow, your bodyguard or your manager? “Uh, Xabi?”

Xabi was also a manager, but while Stevie was the money-maker, the Big Boss who dealt with the Big Stuff like contracts and tours and endorsements, Xabi was the one who managed Fernando from day-to-day. He was the good cop to Stevie’s bad cop.

Xabi offered. “Well, maybe you can just walk the fastest you can without running. We don’t wanna seem ungrateful.”

“And smile, don’t forget!”

Fernando pulled his hood over his shock of blonde hair. As if that would make him any less recognisable. “Let’s do this.”

Dan took hold of the door handle. “Stevie, Xabi, do you prefer to go before or after?”

Xabi looked at his partner. “Before, we suffer the impatience of 16-year-old Thai girls. After, we suffer their mass hysteria.”

“Before,” Stevie said.

“Alright,” Dan said. He pushed open the door and was immediately met by a wall of sound. The crowd erupted into cheers.

Fernando wasn’t the golden boy just yet. They were just the front act on Cristiano Ronaldo’s Asian tour. But Fernando was slowly and steadily gaining a following. It was a small group, maybe just 250, 300 people after every show. But the strange thing about this business was, sometimes it was the smaller followings that were the more dedicated ones. Daniel could swear there were faces he saw at almost every concert.

The crowd started chanting Fernando’s name.

“No autographs, alright?”

Fernando smiled as if to say, if I don’t say yes, you can’t get mad at me later.

“No autographs, no pictures, no handshakes!” Dan said louder to be heard over the noise.

“Maybe one or two?” Fernando waved to some of the fans he could see through the crack in the door. One girl started to cry.

“No!”

They were still probably gonna stop for one or two fans, but Dan could forgive that.

Fernando poked his bodyguard, “And can you please be nice? They’re teenagers. They’re tiny. You don’t have to shove them aside any time they come too close.”

Daniel smiled as if to say, if I don’t say yes, you can’t get mad at me later.

The Spaniard rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey, hey, keep it PG-13. Don’t let your fans hear you say bad words,” Dan wagged his finger. “Now come on, pretty boy. We’re gonna miss our flight.”

They stepped up to the door and the flashes from cameras began to pop from every angle. Dan wrapped one strong arm around Fernando’s waist and together, they walked into the pandemonium.


	2. I'll follow you down

Daniel’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head. They had arrived in Malaysia at around midnight and had to wake up about six hours after. Fernando had a guest appearance in one of the most popular radio shows in the country, and its largest audience was during the morning rush hour.

“I don’t know how you’re managing to stay awake,” he told Fernando.

Fernando’s knee kept jiggling. “Two cups of coffee – one to wake you up, another to give you a personality.”

“And I assume your personality is ‘wide-eyed Energizer bunny,’ yeah?”

“It’s either that or ‘half-asleep zombie.’“

Dan stifled an almighty yawn. Their slot for the radio show wasn’t for another 20 minutes, and the constant chatter of the DJs was lulling him to sleep.

Fernando clapped him on the shoulder to jolt him. “Come on, throw me a few practise questions. It’ll keep us busy.”

This was supposed to be Xabi’s work. He was the nanny, not Dan. But Xabi was in the office with the station manager, and Dan and Fernando were the only ones in the waiting room.

“Alright,” Dan sighed. He tossed a random question. “Uh, how do you like touring so far?”

And then there was this strange shift in Fernando, like he closed his eyes as Normal Fernando and when he opened them again, he was Stage Fernando.

“Actually, Dan, it’s my first time touring, at least touring so far away from home. It’s been tough. You spend just one or two days in a city or a country. You live out of your suitcase. You don’t get any proper food or rest,” Fernando was saying. His smile was warm and his eyes were crinkled at the corners, and it made Dan feel like Fernando genuinely meant everything he said and he believed him.

“But it’s also been pretty fun since we have a crew of around 10 people so it’s like a little household. The managers are the parents so maybe it’s not so fun for them, but the band, the backstage team, they’re like the crazy brothers and sisters,” Fernando said, with a perfectly placed little chuckle at the end.

Dan had to snap out of his trance. It was like watching a TV show. “What’s it like touring with Cristiano Ronaldo?”

“Oh, it’s been great. I’m just starting out in the business, so I try to learn how Cris goes about his job. He’s been very helpful.”

Lies, all lies. They were touring together since they had the same recording company, but they’ve crossed paths exactly twice this trip, and that was because Cristiano’s entourage mistakenly brought him to the wrong dressing room.

Cristiano was probably nice, to be fair. He just seemed too preoccupied to be socialising with his front act, much less his front act’s crew.

Dan asked another. “So, is this your first time in Thailand?”

Fernando snapped out of his interview mode for a split-second. “Thailand was yesterday. It’s Malaysia today.”

“See, it was a trick question. I was just testing you.”

Fernando rolled his eyes but he offered an answer nevertheless. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. We’re all pretty excited to go around later, try out the food, see the Petronas Towers.”

“Oh, say that the people here are beautiful. They love that.”

And Fernando was so well-versed in this game. The words rolled off his tongue smoothly. “Oh, and the people here are very beautiful, I must say.”

Dan shivered. “You’re like a machine. A lean, mean, PR machine of unthreatening sex appeal for 16-year-old girls.”

Fernando’s forehead furrowed. “I… thank you?” He was Normal Fernando again. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Dan shrugged. One of the DJs stepped out of the booth and waved at them. “Hey, Fernando, come on in. You’re up next after this commercial break.”

The interview was pretty basic. Dan probably asked better questions – at least he bothered to ask what Cristiano was like, even though Fernando parried it and gave a dull answer.

By the end, one of the DJs asked Fernando what he liked the most about Malaysia. Fernando didn’t waver. “Well, the people here are very beautiful.” Dan thought Fernando glanced over at his direction and winked, but he was probably looking at the DJs instead because they were swooning.

*

The day had only just begun. Stevie was never one to pass up a marketing opportunity, so their schedule was crammed to the hilt.

After the radio show, they had to do a shoot for a magazine then appear on a noontime TV show.

Daniel was already getting cranky from getting up so early and then shuttling back and forth through the city. It was just past noon, and his temper was already running short. “Why haven’t we started yet? You said the press conference was at 12 PM.”

Xabi sighed. “That’s what I thought too. But the organisers said they’re still waiting for reporters to arrive.”

“Why the fuck aren’t they here yet? It’s already 15 past!” Dan snatched the cigarette pack from Xabi’s hands and took one for himself. It definitely didn’t help his mood that the only place they could smoke in this hotel was out in the balcony, under the sweltering sun. Dan could feel his shirt sticking to his back.

Xabi took back the cigarettes. “I don’t fucking know, okay? Chill out.” He passed the younger boy the lighter. “At least we get a few minutes of downtime.”

Dan was about to snap that he didn’t want any downtime, he wanted to get everything wrapped up as soon as possible so he could take a nap in the tour bus on the way to the stadium.

Xabi must have read his mind because he just said, “At least let the boy have a break.” He nodded in the direction of the function room on the other side of the glass door where Stevie and Fernando were holed up. They were scarfing down their burgers like they hadn’t eaten all day. They probably hadn’t.

Dan relented and toned down his attitude. He grumbled under his breath instead, “I can’t believe we have to wait for them to be ready for us. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Xabi smiled wryly. “I don’t think we’re famous enough to arrive late to guestings just yet.”

Dan snorted. He worked as security for his friend’s band last year and they were famous only in their heads but they were late to everything. But then again, maybe that was why they were only touring Camden and not East Asia.

“Don’t worry,” Xabi said, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “If we hit the big time, we’re gonna act like rock stars.” 

Dan took a couple more drags from his cigarette and the nicotine began to take some of the edge off. He mused, “Do you really think so? I mean, do you think Fernando could make it big?”

They watched Stevie and Fernando inside, deep in conversation over their fries. Stevie was talking animatedly, the way he always did when he was excited about a project. Fernando listened attentively, nodding.

“You know, he could,” Xabi said slowly. “He sings well. He plays well. He’s awfully popular. He’s had a couple of hits under his belt. I don’t think the recording company would have let us go on tour with Cristiano if they didn’t see something in Fernando.”

“So, this is make or break, huh?”

“Pretty much. The tour is a huge promotional opportunity. If we get good reviews on this and on the album next year, then who knows where we could be headed?”

“You talk as if we’re about to orchestrate the second coming of the Beatles.”

Xabi stubbed his cigarette on the balcony railing and flicked it at Dan. “Hey,” he said sharply. “We’re not about to change the face of music, fine, but given the size of our team, I’d say we’re punching above our weight.”

Dan held up his hands. “Touchy. I was just teasing.”

Stevie popped out and joined them. “There you guys are.” He pressed a kiss to Xabi’s temple, and Dan politely averted his eyes. Sometimes it was still strange for him to see these things. “I think we’re just about ready to start.”

“Great,” Xabi said, checking his watch. “Half a day gone, another half to go.”

The press conference was followed by a series of one-on-one interviews with some of the top media outlets. Dan sat with Stevie and Xabi on a cushy couch, right in front of the air-conditioning which was going on at full blast to beat the humidity outside. It was pretty comfortable, and if Dan angled his head just right, he could fall asleep without anyone noticing.

The interviews were downright boring. If another reporter asked, “How does it feel to have your singles break into the iTunes top charts?” Dan would take their pen and stab them with it. What else was Fernando supposed to say? “Oh, it’s horrid. I hope I don’t get any more successful than I am now. I can’t bear the idea.”

Dan took out his phone and tapped a message to Fernando. “How the fuck are you managing to stay civil in these interviews?”

During a particularly long-winded question, he saw Fernando glance down at his phone discreetly and snicker.

Dan texted him again. “Why is no one asking the important questions? If the devil promised you the same commercial and critical success as John Mayer, but you would also have to have his same douchebag attitude, spotty dating history and shitty hairstyle, would you take the offer?”

Fernando had to choke back a laugh, throwing off the reporter he was talking to. Fernando had to pretend he was coughing and excused himself as he sipped some water.

Stevie cleared his throat loudly, and Fernando immediately sat up straight in his chair like a student who had just been caught dozing off. He pocketed his phone and trained his attention solely on the interviewer.

Dan sighed. Well, that was the end of it. Stevie could be so uptight sometimes. His phone beeped again. It was Martin Skrtel this time, their drummer. The rest of the band was going out to explore the city, which loosely translated to: they were going to look for a bar that was open this early so they could get drinks before the rehearsals.

“Ask Steve and Xabs if they can let you go already. Come with us,” Martin said.

It was the lifeline Dan has been calling out for all day. He discreetly tapped Xabi’s shoulder. Better to ask Xabi – he was the good cop. He tried the indirect approach to play down the fact he wanted to abandon them. “The band guys are asking what time we’ll be done, in case we want to go explore the city with them?”

Xabi checked his watch. “This will probably go on for another hour. What do you think, Stevie?”

Stevie raised his eyebrow at Dan. The expression on his face showed he had no doubts as to who was texting Fernando in the middle of his interviews. “Yeah, we’ve got this under control. You can go ahead,” he said, his voice tight.

Dan jumped to his feet and made for the exit. Stevie didn’t miss how Fernando noticed the movement and turned in his chair to see what was going on.

And while Dan was delighted to be able to leave, something in Stevie’s answer rubbed him the wrong way. It was still bothering him as he waited for an elevator to take him down to the lobby.

Stevie was overly protective of Fernando – it was his job. But really, it was also Stevie’s fault that his talent was being run ragged, Dan thought. They were only on their second stop in Asia and the atmosphere in that function room was already dry as a bone. Honestly, Dan was probably the only thing keeping things light around here.

Before Dan knew it, he was marching back into the function room and rejoining the managers on the couch.

“What happened? I thought you were leaving.” Xabi asked.

Dan shrugged. “Martin said they went ahead already. They’ll just see us at rehearsals.” He could feel Stevie looking at him but he refused to meet his gaze.

When one of the interviews wrapped up, Dan walked over to Fernando’s table.

“Hey,” Fernando smiled up at him.

“Has anyone topped my John Mayer question yet?”

“Sadly, no. And I’ve decided that my answer is yes.”

“I don’t judge. Xabi says this is going on for another hour. Coffee?”

Fernando frowned. “I really shouldn’t have any more.”

“Bad for the voice?”

“Yeah.”

Dan ignored it and got him a cup anyway. He whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry. We won’t tell Stevie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No offense meant to John Mayer or his fans. I love his music, but his attitude and his hair are a bit dreadful.


	3. This boy can read my racing thoughts

Fernando tore off another scrap of cotton and soaked it in baby oil. “The lights, the weather – it’s really humid here, so we’re going to have to double your layers today,” the make-up artist had said as she prepared Fernando for the concert earlier.

“Oh, god, your skin tone is so pale and uneven,” she added, tsking. “It’s a good thing I have make-up with maximum coverage.” She mixed even more of the foundation and the concealer on her palette and swept it thickly over Fernando’s face.

She hadn’t been kidding. It took Fernando only three or four wipes across his forehead, and the cotton was already stained with thick, flesh goo.

Groaning, Fernando pulled out more and more cotton from the box, made them swim in oil and scrubbed his face furiously. “Always use gentle, circular motions when washing your face. Remember to rub upwards not downwards so your skin doesn’t sag,” the make-up artist had said. But Fernando couldn’t care less. His body was heavy with fatigue and he just wanted to crumple in bed and steal six hours of sleep.

“You’ve been in here for 30 minutes already,” a voice spoke up. Daniel came into view, and Fernando could see him through his reflection on the mirror.

“I’m trying to take off my make-up. God, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” Fernando said. “It’s like they painted a mask on me and my skin has been rotting underneath.”

Dan smirked. “That’s the most poetic thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about removing make-up in the middle of the night aboard a moving tour bus. Tell me, why don’t your producers let you write your own songs yet?”

Fernando glared at his bodyguard through the mirror. He could never tell if Dan was sarcastic or sincere so to be safe, he just assumed it was the former. “Fuck off.”

But Dan didn’t fuck off. And Fernando didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t surprised at the least that Dan stayed there, leaning against the door frame, intently watching Fernando proceed with his protracted beauty ritual. The singer suddenly felt self-conscious that one side of his face was a different colour from the other.

“You can’t just let it melt off? Will it run down your eyes in black streaks like the girls on TV?” Dan asked.

“The make-up artist says the number one rule is to never leave your make-up on.”

Dan snorted. “Well, tell her she shouldn’t put on so much then.”

“I did! She didn’t listen.” Fernando swiped underneath his eyes, and the concealer gave way to show dark bags. They hadn’t had a decent spell of sleep in the past week.

“Stevie’s running you ragged, huh.”

Fernando stared at himself in the mirror. With most of the make-up of, he saw how pale his face was. Paler than usual, even his cheeks seemed gaunt. “You know Stevie. For him, there’s no such thing as ‘hectic,’ only ‘efficient use of time and money.’”

Dan didn’t laugh along at the quip. His mouth was tight at the corners.

Soon, Fernando finished, washing his face with soap to remove the excess oil. Dan passed him a towel.

“Let me see,” Dan said. He tilted Fernando’s face up by the chin, turning it left then right to check if there was any residue left.

On camera, Fernando was glowing. Now, his skin was almost translucent, red spots were breaking out across his cheeks, and wrinkles were starting to form around his eyes. But Dan liked this better.

"I didn’t even notice you had freckles,” Dan said. From that close, he didn’t miss the way Fernando’s face turned pink.

As they made their way out, Fernando hazarded an indirect invitation. “Do you know I get to have an Xbox 360 in my room?”

“Fuck. Really?” Dan said. He hasn’t played video games since they started touring. His hands were itching at the thought of taking a console again.

“Come on. I have FIFA 14.”

Fernando may have had the lion’s share of space in the tour bus, but they were still on a tour bus. His room was basically half a foot of space on either side of the bed and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. To share Fernando’s room was to share Fernando’s bed.

Fernando may or may not have known this when he invited Daniel in, but Dan still stepped over the threshold anyway. He could sense some of the band members eyeing them as they went into the room together – there were too many “bodyguard” puns to be made from this situation, but fuck that.

“I call dibs on Chelsea,” Fernando said, climbing into bed.

“Like fuck I’m gonna choose Chelsea.” Dan picked up his controller but stayed standing along the edge of the bed.

“You can take a seat, you know.”

Dan did but confined himself to the corner of the bed. Fernando didn’t push it.

“I can’t believe you have your own room, TV and Xbox. The rest of us peons have to make do with bunk beds and weak, centralised air-conditioning,” Dan ranted as they began playing. “Did you know that Pepe snores? Horribly? I think all his time with the band has partially deafened him, he doesn’t know how loud he is anymore.”

Fernando laughed, teasing, “Sorry. Perks of the job. Do you take it against me?”

Dan shrugged. “Not at all. I think you’re the most hardworking person here.” He said it so matter-of-factly, it caught Fernando off-guard.

Now, Fernando’s had more than his fair share of compliments – he’s been called handsome, charming and talented, and in countless variations thereof. Personally, he prided himself in being professional above all, but nobody ever paid attention to that. It was strange – touching – that Dan noticed. “Uh, thanks.”

The game soon got competitive. Fernando was cursing Dan to the high heavens for getting a hat-trick, Dan was yelling loudly at Fernando for a foul that wasn’t called, Fernando threw a pillow at Dan to distract him when he had the ball and was running toward an open goal. Thankfully, he missed.

It wasn’t long before there was a sharp knock on Fernando’s door – really, a thin plastic divider – and Stevie was poking his head into the room. “Boys, keep the noise down. The others are trying to sleep.”

Fernando smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Stevie.”

Dan kept his head down, trying to disappear into the background. He knew he was already on thin ice with Stevie. But the manager turned to him, then turned to Fernando and added, “Actually, you two should probably go to sleep too. We have a six-hour drive to Singapore, and it would give you a chance to rest.”

And just like that, Dan was going to be an absolute asshole if he kept Fernando from getting much-needed shuteye. Stevie left and Dan put down his controller. “He’s right, you know.”

Fernando was torn. Of course, Stevie was right. But if there was one thing he needed other than rest, it was to let loose a little bit. “Maybe just one more game. Just keep it down,” he said. And to be safe, he put the TV on mute and flicked off the lights.

They played for another hour, hissing insults at each other instead of shouting, stifling laughter on pillows. But the darkness, the quiet, soon began to lull them to sleep.

Dan turned to Fernando while they waited for one of the games to load. Only the edges of his face were highlighted by the garish light of the TV, but it was clear that his eyelids were drooping.

“I should go now,” Dan said.

“No,” Fernando said through a yawn. “Let’s finish this tournament first. It’s just a few more games.”

Dan laughed.

“What?”

“You’re like a kid who doesn’t want play time to end.”

Fernando relented by sinking lower in bed and resting his head on the pillows. “I feel like that sometimes, you know. Like a kid and this is play time and one day, this will just end.”

His voice had taken on an airy, almost nonsensical quality, like he stood at the edge of deep sleep but fought against the fall. “I just took a semester off from college and now, I’m here touring. With my own band and my own staff.” He gestured at Dan, “I even have my own bodyguard.”

Dan stared at the Spaniard, puzzled but amused. Fernando probably couldn’t even understand what he was rambling on about right now. He probably didn’t even notice he was saying these things out loud.

“God, I’m barely into my 20s and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I even know what I’m doing. Half the time, I’m just following everyone’s instructions.” Fernando said. “And these businessmen and producers and managers, they’re all relying on me and investing in me, and all I can wonder is: do they buy this at all? Am I even fooling anyone?”

Dan watched Fernando, barely awake, breathing deeply. He had a feeling they crossed the line somewhere. That this was something Fernando shouldn’t be telling him, and this is something Dan shouldn’t be hearing. But then again, who else did they have? Touring brought the entire group together, but you could be lonely even around family.

Dan shrugged one shoulder and mumbled shyly. “Well, I’m convinced. But what do I know?”

Fernando opened one eye to glance at his bodyguard. It was dark but his smile was brilliant. “Thanks.”

Dan collected the consoles and switched off the Xbox and TV. “Good night.”

*

Xabi has been a talent manager for about a decade now. The business was unpredictable, but he liked to think he’s gotten the hang of it. Touring, however, could still get the best of him sometimes.

“Can we just cancel our schedule for the rest of the day?” Dan mumbled, his face buried in his arms as he tried to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

Xabi nearly, nearly said yes, even as a joke. He didn’t, in case Dan took him seriously or Stevie was listening. Instead, he just closed his eyes, rested his head against the booth of the diner and tried to get himself excited for the day ahead.

They had arrived in Singapore at around 6 AM. By that hour, everyone was in deep sleep – no matter how uncomfortable the tour bus was – and there was no way they could be roused and be happy about it. They wasted about 45 minutes in the hotel lobby waiting for the rooms to be ready. By the time they got to crash in bed – real beds, finally – they had just about an hour left before the main team had to meet up for breakfast.

“Where are Stevie and Fernando?” Dan asked.

“They were up earlier than us. They had to do a phone-in interview for a US radio station.”

“Damn.”

Xabi nodded. The tour was tiring him out, but he knew Stevie was worse off. It pained him to see his lover coming to bed so late at night and leaving so early in the morning.

Stevie and Fernando arrived not long after. Dan stood to give up his chair so Stevie could sit across Xabi in the booth. At this point, he was doing all he could to get back on the Scouser’s good side – he did sign Dan’s paycheques after all. Fernando sat next to Stevie, with Dan across him.

Stevie reached out and took Xabi’s hand, gave it a tight squeeze. His way of saying hello, good morning, I’m exhausted but don’t worry about me. Xabi offered him a smile – they both knew he would keep on worrying anyway.

What caught Xabi’s attention, though, were the boys next to them. He could hear their murmured conversations: “Hey.” “Hey.” “How are you?” “Could be better. You?” “I’m super.”

Xabi’s head snapped to the side. Dan and Fernando were talking behind their menus. Xabi raised his eyebrows at Stevie, but he was too busy trying to decide what to eat.

Xabi cleared his throat, “Orders, everyone?”

Fernando shut his menu. “I’m not really hungry.”

Xabi was about to protest, but Dan beat him to it. “You probably won’t get any chance to eat later so you should eat now.”

“Fine, fine. Pancakes. Coffee?”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s get a pot.”

Xabi must have been staring at the two. When did they form this natural rhythm around each other?

“Xabi?” Stevie waved his hand in front of the Spaniard’s face. “What are you ordering?”

“Oh. French toast.”

Stevie passed around the newspaper. He took the front page, Xabi liked to read business, Dan and Fernando took entertainment and sports. They ate in silence, sipping their coffee and passing around the different sections of the paper when they were done with them. It was a perfect quartet.

That night, when they were in bed, Xabi told Stevie what he saw. “I know a lot of these kids only met when the tour started, but I think Dan and Fernando have really hit it off, don’t you think?”

Stevie folded his arms behind his head. “I think everyone’s gotten along really well. The band and Fernando have performed together before and they like each other. The technicians, the stage hands, they’ve all been good fun to have around.”

Stevie tried to play it down, but Xabi wasn’t as convinced. “But Dan and Fernando, their closeness was almost…”

Intimate, he was going to say, but he didn’t want to set Stevie off. He didn’t look too sold on the idea of Dan and Fernando.

“They were very comfortable around each other,” he said instead.

“Yeah, I think they’ve become friends. I mean, it’s mostly the four of us doing the rounds anyway, so it was inevitable.”

Xabi studied his lover. His frown lines and worry lines were growing deeper. He rubbed Stevie’s forehead with his thumb as if to try and erase them. Maybe he should bring this up another day then.

Stevie stared hard at the ceiling for a long time. He was lost in thought, and Xabi knew better than to disturb him. Finally, the Scouser murmured. “We’re so close. So close.”

Fernando could well be their most successful project. He was wildly popular. He was talented enough. And he was ploughed through work just as steadily as Stevie did – a feat in itself. The closest they’ve come to this much success was another Spaniard, Luis Garcia. There were talks his breakout hit was going to be nominated for the MTV Europe Music Awards, but nothing came of it. They called it a day after a disappointing sophomore album.

“It will happen,” Xabi said, resting his head on Stevie’s chest. He could hear how fast his heart was still beating. “Don’t stress about it.”

“But…”

A stern shake of the head silenced Stevie. Xabi knew when to indulge his worries and when to say they were too much. Stevie didn’t have that filter.

“Okay,” Stevie exhaled. “Okay. Okay.”

“Yeah. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Stevie rested his head on the pillow and held Xabi close to him until they fell asleep.


	4. I may not let go

Daniel knew something was wrong the moment he arrived at the breakfast table and he was the first one there. Fernando was the early bird, not him. It was already a feat that he arrived 10 minutes before schedule.

Xabi and Stevie arrived soon after, but they didn’t seem to be troubled by Fernando’s absence. They headed straight to the breakfast buffet, so Daniel tried to ignore it. He thought of texting the Spaniard but he didn’t want to seem like he was overreacting.

At 8:30 AM, a good half hour after their meeting time, Dan couldn’t keep it in anymore. Something was off. He cleared his throat, tried to act nonchalant, “By the way, where is Fernando? Aren’t we supposed to leave soon?”

Stevie peeked over his newspaper to size up Dan, who squirmed in his seat. Seriously, what was Stevie’s problem? It was an innocent question!

Xabi chewed on his bacon. “I gave him a wake-up call at 7 AM, and he answered.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded slowly. He wanted to bite back his follow-up question, but it slipped out before he could. “That was an hour and a half ago though. It’s not like him to be this late.”

Stevie loudly flipped a page of the newspaper. “He probably just overslept.”

Dan looked to Xabi for help but he just smiled wanly. “Maybe he just decided to skip breakfast to get more sleep.”

They ate in uncomfortable silence as they considered their next move: Dan, bursting with questions; Stevie, coiled and waiting to shoot Dan down; Xabi, ready to keep the peace.  
 Finally, Dan dusted the crumbs off his hands and put away his plate. “I’ll just pop by Fernando’s room and bring him down.”

Stevie’s jaw clenched. “God, why are you so worried?”  
 “Look, we have to leave soon anyway,” Dan reasoned out. “If I don’t get him now, we’re gonna run late.”

Xabi saw the determination in Dan’s eyes. Sure, he found it odd that Fernando was late, but it was like Dan sensed deep in his bones that there was a problem. Stevie, of course, would not validate it. 

“You know, maybe I’ll just go. It was my job to make sure Fernando was awake on time anyway,” Xabi said, standing up.

Stevie tried to pull him back down. “No, I’ll go.”

“Well, if you’re going, then I’m going,” Dan said.

Xabi had to roll his eyes. Stevie and Dan were agreeable people, but when they locked horns with anyone, they never backed down. “I guess we’re all going then.”

As they trudged up to Fernando’s suite, Xabi hoped this turned out to be something so stupid, he would laugh in Stevie and Dan’s face after. Fernando oversleeping. Fernando stuck in the bathroom bleaching his hair. Fernando not being able to decide what to wear.  
 They found Fernando in bed when they arrived, still fast asleep. “I told you he overslept,” Stevie muttered.

But Dan wasn’t paying attention. “I don’t think he just overslept.” He walked up for a closer look.

“What are you doing?” Stevie hissed as they followed the Dane.

Fernando was curled into a ball, the bed sheets pulled over his head. Xabi tentatively reached out and lifted the sheets. Fernando’s eyes were squeezed shut, as if in pain, and his breathing was shallow.

“Oh no,” Xabi said. Fernando looked sick as a dog.

Dan perched on the bed, shook Fernando awake with this disarming gentleness, Xabi felt like he was intruding on a private moment. How was Stevie not seeing this?

Fernando could barely keep his eyes open, even as he jumped at the sight of the three. He tried to sit up but his arms shook; he tired halfway and had to lean back against his pillows for support. They watched him anxiously.

Stevie, forever the bull charging into a china shop, joked loudly: “Don’t tell me you went wild and partied last night, boy!”

No one laughed. Xabi punched him on the shoulder. Once in a while, he had to take down Stevie just to keep him under control.

“Are you okay?” Xabi asked.

“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready,” Fernando wheezed. He heard his own voice – frayed and barely there – cleared his throat and tried again. “Fuck, am I late? What time is it?”

Stevie paled. “You are not okay.”   
Xabi pressed his palm against Fernando’s forehead. It was warm. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not,” Fernando insisted. “I just need some tea and honey for my throat. It’s a little sore.” The last few words came in rasps. 

Stevie rubbed his temples, groaning. “We have a full day’s work ahead of us, but it will be pointless if Fernando isn’t there or if he has no voice!”

Dan snapped. “You have to check your priorities.”

Even Xabi was taken aback. Dan and Stevie weren’t the best of friends, but Dan was professional enough to always defer to the manager. 

Stevie took one step towards Dan. “You,” he raised a finger, “have no say in this. You’re just security. I’m the manager. Don’t forget that.”

“Well, good job managing the talent, Stevie. Look at what you’ve done.”   
Fernando clutched his head in his hands. It was throbbing loudly in his ears. He wished everyone would stop shouting.

Xabi clapped loudly. “Alright, back it up! Stevie, can you please call a doctor? At least we get a better idea of what’s wrong with Fernando, what he needs to take and how long he should rest.”

Stevie glared at Dan one last time and marched off.

“Xabi, you have to admit, I had a point – “ Dan started to explain, but Xabi just held up his hand.

“Just go and get room service, get Fernando something to eat.”

Dan was happy enough to be allowed to stay in the room. Even as he rang up the hotel lobby, he kept an eye on Fernando. Xabi was helping him lie down again.

“Are you hot or cold?” Xabi asked.

“Cold and sweating.”

Xabi was stalled. “Okay, that doesn’t help us.” He turns up the air-conditioning but bundles up Fernando under the blanket.

Dan was watching them so closely, he almost missed the call. “Hello? Sir? How may I help you?” Front desk was asking through the phone. He ordered three or four dishes which he knew Fernando would not be able to finish but he felt it would make him feel better anyway. “And tea, lots of tea and honey.”

When Dan got off the phone, Stevie was still out and Xabi had gone into the bathroom to draw up some hot water for Fernando. Dan tiptoed to bed, not wanting to wake up the blonde, not wanting to get caught by the managers either.

He just stood there, watching Fernando sleep uneasily. He looked so tiny underneath all the pillows and blankets. He wanted to reach out and brush his hair off his sweating forehead, cup his cold cheek. Lately, he’s been having to fight that urge constantly – sometimes they play videogames and he finds himself roughhousing with Fernando more often, and when they walk through mobs of fans, he grips his arms tightly.

Fernando stirred, and like all the other times they have accidentally dozed off together on his bed in the tour bus, Dan’s instinct is to step back and keep his arms at his sides. Before Fernando could fully open his eyes, Dan rushed to the bathroom to see if Xabi needed any help.

*

“The good news is, it’s not laryngitis,” the doctor said.

Stevie heaved such a huge sigh of relief, his body almost deflated. “Oh, thank you, Mary, sweet mother of god.”

“The patient, however,” the doctor continued sternly, “is fatigued. Too much activity, a lack of rest, a poor diet – they can make you feel physically and mentally tired, not to mention more vulnerable to getting sick.”

Xabi nodded. “What do we need to do?”

The doctor scanned his notes. “He doesn’t need any medication, just rest. I can’t emphasise that enough. Two full days of rest, and only the most necessary work after that, at least this week.”

He added, “The same goes for his throat – he may not have laryngitis, but the vocal chords are swollen and raw. No singing and no talking for now.”

Stevie smiled sheepishly at the doctor. “See, doc, the problem is we’re on a very tight schedule touring Asia. By full rest today and tomorrow, you mean…?”

“Bed rest.”

Stevie cringed. He glanced at Xabi, throwing a few suggestions, “How about, if we cancel all of Fernando’s shows today and tomorrow and exchange it with, I don’t know, something low maintenance like a Twitter Q&A or a Google hangout? He can do those in bed.”

But even Xabi was reluctant. “That doesn’t sound like heavy work, but that doesn’t sound like rest either,” he replied carefully. He looked to the doctor for support.

The doctor shrugged, “It’s really up to the both of you how you want to manage this. If you absolutely must work, then you can. But know that the patient’s running on his reserves now, so he could get sick or his voice could give out – and those could put him out for much longer.”

When the doctor left, Stevie and Xabi finally got to sit down to discuss the decision.

“I can’t cancel one whole week’s worth of appearances. That’s gonna kill us.”

“It doesn’t have to be a week, just two days. I’m with the doctor on this one, Stevie.”

Stevie scratched his head as he laid out the calendar on the table. There was a concert scheduled for that night and the following day. He couldn’t bear the thought of crossing them out. Those were the big ones – it would hurt to cancel the interviews and pictorials, but calling off the shows would be the worst.

“Come on now,” Xabi said. He took the marker from Stevie’s hand and began to draw large X’s across the calendar.

“We’re actually pretty lucky Fernando got sick in Singapore since it’s is our only three-day stop,” he pointed out. “We already had a concert last night, so at least we can say we still established our presence here, even if we cancel the show for today and tomorrow.”

He drew more X’s: “For the rest of the week, we just need to space out our appointments. Start later in the day, end earlier at night. Focus on the big ones – what is this magazine, anyway? I’ve never seen it in any of the airports we’ve been through. Let’s cancel on them.”

Stevie watched in horror as Xabi struck out line after line in the immaculately kept schedule. “Can we at least keep…”

“No.” Xabi cut off. He studied his handiwork. It was still a bit crowded, the schedule for the rest of the week, but it was an improvement from the original. He handed the marker back to Stevie, “The only change you can make to the calendar is to remove even more appointments.”

“Think of all the refunds we’ll have to make, all the bad will from the fans and the media,” Stevie moaned.

“Other artists have cancelled shows for less. I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, think of it the other way around, it creates a buzz. And if there’s enough clamour, maybe we can hold a quick show here after we finish the rest of the Asian tour.”

Stevie still didn’t look happy, but he looked appeased enough. “Are you sure?” He grumbled, his fingers still tight around the marker.

“I’m sure,” Xabi said. He leaned across the table and gave Stevie a deep kiss. It was a cheap trick, but the thing with cheap tricks is that they always worked.

Stevie and Xabi returned to Fernando’s bedroom, and Dan immediately leapt to his feet when he saw them. “What did the doctor say?”

Xabi studied the room. The desk chair was pulled over to the bed, and he imagined Dan sitting there to watch over Fernando, who was still fast asleep. The breakfast tray was overflowing and untouched but it was kept close in case the Spaniard needed anything.

“It’s nothing serious. Just bed rest.”

“Okay, that’s great,” Dan said, trying to sound casual, but he had looked sick with worry.

Xabi thought of pulling him aside, confronting him about his suspicions, but Stevie dismissed Dan. He was still bristling from their argument earlier, worsened by the news they would have to pull out of their commitments this week.

“We’re cancelling Fernando’s schedule for today and tomorrow. So, you can go now.” 

Dan looked torn, but even he wouldn’t go against Stevie when he was in that foul a mood. “That’s fantastic,” he finally said, mustering a grin as he gathered his things and left. 

*

Fernando slipped in and out of consciousness. His body knew it had to wake up – it was impossible he was getting this much time to stay in bed. He was waiting for the cues, like a ringing phone or sunshine pouring into his room, but they never came. So he just slept and slept and slept until it was painful.

He woke up to find his phone drained of battery and the curtains drawn. The clock said it was early in the afternoon, but the room was dark, and this disoriented him. He felt around for the lamp on the bedside table. He managed to switch it on but not without knocking off the hotel pad and phone directory.

Xabi and Stevie came running into his room like anxious parents hearing their firstborn child crying.

“You’re awake.”

“Are you okay?’

“How are you feeling?”

“My head still hurts,” Fernando said.

Stevie sighed, problematic. “Maybe you should get some more rest.”

“I think my head hurts from getting too much rest.”

Fernando moved to get up and for a split second, he thought Stevie was going to physically restrain him. Thankfully, the manager didn’t. He just eyed the Spaniard carefully as he limped across the room.

“What time are we heading out? What did we miss?”

“We cancelled everything.”

“Until tomorrow,” Xabi piped in.

“What?!” Fernando exploded. He had to clutch his neck after as his throat twinged at the exertion. “I’m fine now!”

“Oh, god, you’re worse than Stevie,” Xabi said. “The doctor said to let you rest for a couple of days.”   
“I don’t need rest. I’m not tired!”

Stevie smiled smugly. Maybe they could still put on the concert tomorrow then! But Xabi glared at him. “Don’t even think about it.”   
Xabi changed his tack. He took Fernando by the shoulders and ushered him back to bed. “It’s not the exhaustion, Nando. We know you’re up for the work. But the doctor said your vocal chords are a little raw right now, and we don’t want them giving up on us later on in the tour. It’s just a quick break to preserve your voice.”

“But…”

“Come on, be a good kid and just go back to bed. Are you hungry yet?” Xabi said.

“Do you want dim sum? Their dim sum here is award-winning, I read it on TripAdvisor,” Stevie added.

Fernando stayed put. “Can we please at least go downstairs to the lobby? I’m suffocating in here.”

He discreetly went around the suite, pretending to look for a change of clothes, but really just looking for Daniel through the corner of his eye. Where was he? He was supposed to be always there. “We can gather everyone together, have one big, happy family lunch,” Fernando suggested.

“I gave everyone leaves today,” Stevie said.

“Oh.” Fernando frowned. Daniel was off-duty. He shuddered at the coldness of the word. Dan’s companionship, after all, was just part of his job.

“Pepe said they had gone exploring the city.”

Fernando’s mood darkened even more. So, the one big, happy family went ahead without them then. Workwise, he was the centre of everything the tour group did. But truth be told, he was so far removed from everyone. The only people he ever got to spend time with were Stevie, Xabi and… Dan.

Xabi combed Fernando’s unruly hair back. “Come on, let’s just stay in. It’ll be fun.” He pulled open the curtains to flood the room with sunshine and switched on the TV. The managers even moved their laptops from the living room, where they had been working, to Fernando’s bedroom.

“Dim sum then?” Stevie looked to Fernando for affirmation.

Fernando sighed glumly and went back to bed. “Do whatever you want.”

*

Dan felt a sharp tug and he fell back. “Hey!” He yelped.

It was Martin – he had grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Martin said. “I just said we had to get on the Circle Line. Pay attention.”

Dan checked the signs. He had been on his way to the North South Line. “Sorry.”

“Stop wandering off. If you get lost, we’re not looking for you,” Martin said.

They had stopped in the middle of one of the corridors of the train station. Commuters had to step to the side and walk around them, shaking their heads and tutting quietly at the hassle they were causing. 

So far, all Dan had seen of Singapore were train stations and malls. The train stations were so clean and orderly, he couldn’t tell them apart from the malls. And the malls had been put up everywhere, he couldn’t tell them apart from the train stations.

When Pepe had rounded up the band for a city tour of Singapore, he had expected to see some local flavour. He was expecting the Merlion at least, not the Marina Bay Sands.

The afternoon commute turned out to be busier than expected. The band was huddled together in one corner of the train, so when Dan’s phone beeped, they all involuntarily craned their necks to check the screen. It’s a nasty habit people don’t notice that they form. Dan couldn’t turn his phone away fast enough.

“Who is it?” Sami Hyypia, their bassist, asked. He was the farthest away from Dan.

“It’s just work,” Dan tried to say, but Raul Meireles, their guitarist, talked over him. “It’s Fernando.”

“One and the same,” Martin snickered.

“You know Dan. Lately, he can’t leave work alone anymore.”

“He’s become a workaholic.”

“All work and no play makes you a dull boy, Dan.”

Dan knew it was all banter. They were teasing him about spending too much time working, not about spending too much time with Fernando, but it still made his ears turn hot. “Fuck off, guys.”

He held his phone so close to his face, his nose almost touched the screen. Nevertheless, he knew the others were watching him as he read Fernando’s text.

“I’m being force-fed award-winning dim sum in my junior suite of a five-star hotel in a first world country. I feel like I’m in prison.”

If Dan was reading this in private, he might have smiled, even laughed out loud, typed out a follow-up joke. Now, he just bit his lip and pocketed his phone.

He was keenly aware of how he was reacting to Fernando’s text message. He felt remembered and needed – a stark contrast to how lost he was right before that. Someone’s attention shouldn’t count for so much.

The boys may be dense, but Dan wasn’t. And he wasn’t ready to deal with what he was discovering about himself.

*

“One more game,” Xabi insisted. “I think I’m getting the hang of it!”

Fernando didn’t reply, just loaded a new game on his Xbox. He had a less-than-healthy addiction to video games, but it was no fun playing against someone who couldn’t match your ability. He had just won five straight games against Xabi, and he wasn’t even trying.

It wasn’t long before he scored six past Xabi’s Liverpool. And he was playing as Stoke!

“Damn, I think you’re too good at this,” Xabi said.

“Stevie, can you please take Xabi’s place?” Fernando whined. He was in a foul mood. Marinating in a hotel room by yourself was one thing. Marinating in a hotel room with people who babied you was another.

Stevie didn’t even look up from his laptop. “I’m not gonna be any better.”

“Anyone can be better than Xabi,” Fernando muttered. It was a good thing his throat was still raw – his words were barely audible. 

After a few more rounds, Fernando checked the time. It was nearly 9 PM – an almost respectable time to attempt to go to bed. He let out a huge yawn. “Is it okay if I go to sleep now, guys? I still feel a bit out of it.”

“Oh, sure, sure.” Xabi jumped to his feet and pulled Stevie out of his chair before he could even close his files properly.

“Just call us if you need anything. Anything. If you start to feel ill again, it’s best that we can call the doctor as soon as possible,” Stevie added. After many repeated assurances, they finally left.

Fernando went online. His Twitter was flooded with messages since he tweeted his apologies for cancelling the concert and announced he was sick. Stevie even Instagrammed a ridiculously non-candid photo of him in bed with Xabi fussing all around him.

Of course, there were a handful of fans that were disappointed and even angry – as they should be, Fernando thought – but they were more than offset by the well-wishers. You’d have thought Fernando was down with cancer, not sore throat. And then there were the usual “please follow me, you are the most handsome person in the world” and “I’m not just his fan, I’m his wife” comments, along with a smattering of emoticons and hashtags too long to read.

It usually made him feel like he was on top of the world, the idea that he was remembered and desired by so many. But today, nothing could make him feel better when he was ignored by one.

He had sent Daniel too many messages today. They ranged from the subtle (“Xabi is not nearly as good as you in FIFA”) to the overtly needy (“HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE ALONE WITH THESE TWO I’M GOING CRAZY”). None of them paid off since the messages couldn’t even solicit a reaction from the Dane. He was busy. Fernando had stalked the band members’ Instagrams and saw Dan in every photo, making wacky faces for selfies as they toured the city.

He wondered if Dan was trying to give him a hint by ignoring him all day: Fernando was work and during non-work hours, he was none of his concern. Maybe he would try just one last time.

This was embarrassing for Fernando, to keep knocking at a door that remained shut. But his need for attention far outweighed his need for dignity. He typed out one more message on his phone, hit “send” and began the waiting game again.

*

“Come on over.”

Dan stared at the screen of his phone and tried to come up with reasons why he should refuse such a direct invitation.

He could ignore Fernando’s messages before, when they were casual and meaningless – just rants about Stevie’s protectiveness and Xabi’s inability to understand a video game. He could ignore them better when he was surrounded by noisy guys dragging him from one mall to another, taking photos at every stop.

But now he was back in his hotel room, and he was at the end of his rope. Was he expected to put up a defence for this long? He had planned to start keeping his distance from Fernando. It had scared him a bit, realising how much he craved his company — he couldn’t understand it. It had scared him even more though, realising what it would be like without him — he couldn’t understand that either.

Dan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the words rang in his head. “Come on over.” And he imagined Fernando saying it to him. He imagined Fernando there beside him, whispering in his ear, his tongue lapping at the shell. It made Dan twitch violently in bed.

His limbs were like jelly when he stood up. He couldn’t even jump into his jeans properly. By the time he reached Fernando’s room, the tips of his fingers and toes had gone ice cold.

From the gap under the door, he could see the lights inside were switched off already. He knocked anyway. And just as he was about to lose his nerve, Fernando appeared.

Fernando of the disheveled hair and the sleepy eyes, a frown left behind on his lips and his voice still not fully recovered. Fernando whose mood visibly lifted when he saw who was at his doorstep.

He leaned against the wall and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed smile. “Took you long enough.”

Dan opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t even begin to understand what had just happened, so what more could he tell Fernando? He shrugged and opened his arms as if to say, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Fernando shrugged back. And ever the charmer, he expertly reeled in his invitation just when Daniel had already presented himself.

“You don’t need to come in if you don’t want to.”

Dan was already pushing open the door wider so he could enter.

Fernando snickered like he hadn’t been waiting all day for this moment. “Ok then. Put on the FIFA.”


	5. Baby, love me lights out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernando is still trying to avoid losing his voice, but he's getting bored out of his mind locked down in his hotel room. Enter Daniel, the favourite distraction.

Even on the second day, Fernando was under close watch. Stevie and Xabi kept him company, and Daniel had to spend his time with Martin and Pepe to avoid suspicion. He checked his phone incessantly, though, waiting for the signal.  
 Today, the signal came in at around half-past 10 in the evening. Daniel hastily excused himself, and the boys gave him a hard time since it was early and the third round of drinks hadn’t even arrived yet.

Since Daniel had stopped denying that he enjoyed being with Fernando, it was like his need worsened. It flared like a fever in him. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he waited for the elevator to take him to Fernando’s floor. And when the blonde opened the door —after one too many knocks for Dan’s liking — Dan had to restrain himself from leaping into him.

“Hey,” he just said, breathless.

Fernando’s smile was too big. “Hey.” He waved his hands spastically to usher Dan in, “Sorry, I told Stevie and Xabi I was gonna go to bed but they insisted they could stay a bit longer and wait for me to fall asleep. I had to lay still in bed with my eyes closed for like half an hour.”

Dan laughed. “I guess they just want to make sure you’re ready to resume work tomorrow.” He paused, “Are you?”

“Fever’s completely gone. Throat’s just a tiny bit sore, but it’ll be fine. I’m just supposed to avoid talking unless I completely have to.”

Dan raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that means now, right?” Fernando pursed his lips. “I should stop babbling. Fuck, I did it again. I’ll stop now.” He pursed his lips again. “Right now.”

Dan laughed. “Come on, let’s just distract you with video games.”

Fernando opened his mouth to protest, but a stern glare from Dan made him keep quiet.

“No FIFA tonight?” Dan guessed.

Fernando nodded.

“Sick of it already?”

Fernando made a face and shrugged.

Dan snickered. “Good thing you’re not sick of me too.” The remark came so easily, knowing Fernando couldn’t respond. The Spaniard’s flushed cheeks were enough of a validation. Dan was sure he was blushing too.

They sat down on the bed in front of the TV although there was nothing on. And for a moment, they stared at the blank screen in silence.

“So.” Dan scanned the room, “I don’t suppose there’s anything else to do here that doesn’t involve video games or the telly?”

“Trust me. I’ve been locked up here for two days already, I’ve searched the room high and low. There’s nothing else to do,” Fernando said. He shouldn’t have said so much because his throat ended up feeling scratchy again. He took a sip of warm water to soothe the rawness.

Dan stood up and flipped through the hotel directory. “They have a bowling alley downstairs.”

Fernando shrugged, but he didn’t exactly look thrilled.

“We can rent board games too.”

The Spaniard stuck out his tongue.

“Uh, they have an award-winning dim sum restaurant?”

Fernando gagged. Dim sum again!

Dan slapped shut the hotel directory. “Unfortunately, I think it’s gonna be FIFA for us again because there’s nothing to do here unless we go out.”

Fernando’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

Dan’s jaw dropped. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Please!” Fernando yelped excitedly and ended up coughing. “Please, please, please,” he repeated, mouthing the words this time.

“Stevie is gonna kill us. No, Stevie is gonna kill me.”

Fernando shook his head vehemently. He didn’t know how else to convey his desperation, so he took Dan’s hands into his own and squeezed them tightly. It took him a second to realise what he had done — it was such a strange feeling, holding hands with Dan.

Nevertheless, it seemed to work. Dan relented. “Okay, how about we just go out but stay within the hotel premises? We can explore the gardens and the pools.”

Fernando didn’t care. He jumped to his feet and ran to his suitcase to change

“And on one condition,” Dan interrupted. He had to establish some sense of control because there were so many ways this could go wrong. “You follow everything I say. You don’t talk to any strangers, you don’t pose for pictures and you don’t sign autographs. Wear something nondescript. Put on a cap.”

Fernando just nodded. Anything Dan wanted. Finally, freedom! He was bouncing on his heels as they rode the elevator. Dan was jiggling his knee nervously.

Since it was late, the hotel lobby wasn’t as busy. They easily slipped through and out the back to the gardens.

Fernando let the night air fill his lungs. The heat and humidity of the afternoon had filtered away. There was a breeze, faintly scented with orchids. He glanced at Dan. “Thanks.”

Dan’s heart was still pounding in his ears, worrying Stevie might jump out of the bushes any second. But seeing Fernando so happy, it made the risk worth it.

They walked around the garden. “So, how are you doing?” Dan asked. They’ve done nothing but talk lately, but there always seemed to be something more to discover about each other. Dan always looked forward to their conversations.

Fernando grinned. “You talk. I have to save my voice.”

He was probably half-joking, but there was also a hint of a challenge. They were both keenly aware that when they talked, they most talked about Fernando — his schedule, his dreams, his fears. He was the star, after all, and Dan, the bodyguard.

Dan wrung his hands. How does one begin? He racked his brain for his ready anecdotes — the ones he whipped out during family reunions and long queues in the pharmacy.

“I love music, but I just don’t have any real talent for it. I can barely cover my ass on Guitar Hero,” Dan said. He glanced at Fernando for some reaction, but the singer was unimpressed.

“What, I’m not yet off the hook?” He demanded.

Fernando just glared at him. He told Daniel more than he told most people. It wasn’t fair that he was the only one baring himself.

Dan sighed and nodded. “Fine, fine. I get it.” But his face was still scrunched up, clearly uncomfortable with talking about himself.  
 Fernando tried to help him out. “Did you ever give it a try, music?”

“Yeah, I tried to learn playing the drums, the guitar, the bass… God, my mother even enrolled me in piano lessons when I was 10 — made me a fucking dork in school that year.”

Fernando laughed, and it encouraged Dan to go on. “Singing, I was hopeless. My parents were blunt with me early on— they would happily help me learn whatever instrument I wanted, but they told me I was just too tone deaf to sing.”

Before Fernando could even flash his puppy dog eyes, Dan held up his hand. “Don’t feel bad for me. My parents were right.”

They continued to walk, and Dan found himself talking more easily. “Then, I just decided, if I can’t make music, I’ll just surround myself with it. I saved up my allowance to buy records and magazines. As soon as I was old enough — sometimes even before that — I would go and watch gigs and concerts.”

“If I was in love with music before, I became addicted to it now. The entire world of music. Not just the rockstars, but even the bands, the roadies, the producers, the famous venues, from the arenas to the dingy piano bars. I knew I had to be part of it somehow.”

Fernando watched Dan in fascination. He’d never seen him so fired up before. And while Fernando didn’t doubt his own passion for music, Dan’s devotion to it seemed all-consuming, it made him feel insecure. He was good at singing and acceptably good-looking, that’s all it was — all that separated him from everyone else who wanted to lead this life. It was merely a happy coincidence; it was nothing compared to Dan’s deep, profound relationship with music.

Dan stopped, halfway through listing the three albums he would bring with him to a desert island. “What — why are you looking at me that way?” He combed his hair back self-consciously.

Fernando shook his head, using his sore throat as an excuse not to say “I think I like you.”

They reached the edge of the hotel gardens and Fernando continued on outside. He heard Dan’s sharp intake of breath over his shoulder, and before his bodyguard could protest, he pleaded: “Just around the block, I promise.”

Dan was probably going to say no, so Fernando continued walking, not waiting for his approval. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room just yet. Thankfully, Dan didn’t stop him.

“How’d you join the tour?” Fernando asked. From what he’s heard from Dan, he didn’t seem to be a fan of the WGWG phenomenon — white guys with guitars.

Dan smiled wryly. “My dad is friends with Xabi’s dad.”

Fernando burst out laughing, making Dan blush. “It’s so funny, I’ve always made a big deal about striking out on my own. My parents wanted me to go to university cos I was a pretty good student in high school. I threw this whole strop about wanting to pursue my dreams, and I believed my heart was in music. So, I’ve been slugging it out, volunteering to do work for all these unknown bands and singers. Of course, when I finally land my biggest gig — a tour in Asia — I get it cos my father watched football in the same pub as Xabi’s father.”

“Well, whatever the story, I’m glad you ended up here,” Fernando said.

Dan didn’t know when he began to look at Fernando in a different light. But at that moment, he knew there was no turning back. “Me too.”

He casually dropped his arm around Fernando’s shoulders. “Let’s head back.” Fernando didn’t know if he meant they should return to the hotel or they should return to his room. His heart started pounding loudly in his chest. 

It reminded him of that feeling churning in his gut right before his very first concert. He remembered it clearly — the debilitating fear that he’s never done this before and that he wasn’t fooling anyone… and yet at its core, a small seed of truth telling him it would all be alright.

The walk back was quiet, but Dan kept his arm wrapped around Fernando. In his head, he rehearsed what he would say when they reached the hotel. I should bring you to your room. Can I come in? Will you let me kiss you?

“I should bring you to your room,” he said when they were in the elevator. His voice was pitchy and echoed horribly off the walls. Fernando just nodded. He looked just as nervous as Dan felt.

He felt his fingers tingling. He yearned to reach out and touch Fernando. His cheeks were pale and he chewed his bottom lip incessantly. Dan reckoned if he touched his face, it would make the other boy blush. He wanted to see that.

They got to Fernando’s room, and Dan hesitated by the door. Can I come in? He urged himself to say it. Fernando watched him expectantly.

“Can…” Dan felt like his throat was closing up. Once he said those words, there would be no more denying what his intentions were. And if Fernando said no, how was he even going to explain himself?

“Hey, listen, I think you left your jacket inside,” Fernando said.

Dan didn’t have a jacket. It was 30 degrees celsius outside. But that was a pretty good line from Fernando. He always was the better talker.

“Right, right. I’m just gonna grab it.”

“Yeah, it won’t be long.”

It turned out, it didn’t take too long at all because when they entered the room, Stevie and Xabi were waiting for them. And they did not look happy.

*

Fernando buried his face in his hands as Stevie raged. He was yelling so loudly, Fernando was sure the rooms next door could hear them.

“What on earth were you two thinking? Going out into the city without permission? What if someone spotted you? What if you got mobbed? What if you got sick? We’re going back to work tomorrow!”

“But Stevie, nothing happened! We made sure to be careful!”

“The fact that nothing happened was down to luck, not your responsibility!”

Fernando tried to reason with his manager. “Stevie, you’ve kept me in this room for days. I just wanted to go out for a change.”

“Oh, so this is our fault? We drove you to do this?”

Xabi placed a hand on Fernando’s shoulder — a silent warning not to add fuel to the fire. He was in no position to pick a fight now. Fernando gritted his teeth and eked out an apology. “No, no, of course not. I’m not blaming you or Xabi. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Stevie didn’t respond. He just ordered, “Go to bed.” He added, “Xabi will stay with you.” Then, he pointed his finger straight at Daniel, who was standing in a corner without a sound. “You. Come with me.”

Fernando stared from Stevie to Daniel and again to Stevie. The manager was livid, and this was not the first time he had a reason to take it out on Dan.

“No, no, no. Stevie, this was all my fault,” Fernando said. “I begged Dan to take me around. He didn’t want to.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Fernando.”   
“Of course, it does! Don’t punish Dan for this.”

Stevie silenced him with a glare. “I said, go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned on his heel and marched out. Fernando tried to catch Dan’s gaze before he left too, but the other boy wouldn’t look his way.

*

As Daniel feared, the screaming, arm-waving, hair-raising phase of Stevie’s anger was done after his sermon to Fernando. That meant he was gonna get the sharp, ice-cold treatment; that scared him more.

Daniel tried to preempt the lecture by owning up to the blame. “I know Fernando says this is his fault, but…”

“It’s your fault,” Stevie said flatly, taking the wind out of Dan’s sails.

“Well, yes.”

Stevie walked to the mini bar and poured himself some scotch. The furrow in his brow was deep. “If I remember correctly, you are a bodyguard. And bodyguards are supposed to protect the talent. Right?”

Dan nodded.

“Right,” Stevie said. He perched on the corner of his desk and sloshed his drink in the glass. “And if the talent decides to do something crazy one day — as they always do, and I suppose I should be happy it took Fernando this long to act out — then the bodyguard’s job is to say no. Right?”

Dan felt his cheeks grow hot. “Right.” He hated this. He would accept being screamed at, but he hated being talked down to.

“Right,” Stevie said. He downed his scotch in two gulps. “And I suppose if Fernando was being really uncontrollable, I think the reasonable thing for you to do was to contact his managers, right? But I highly doubt Fernando was beyond your control…”

Dan had to bite his tongue to keep from cutting off Stevie’s rhetorical bullshit. He kept his head bowed and just repeated: “It really is my fault. I don’t know what else to say except I’m really sorry, Stevie. It won’t happen again.”

The apology didn’t seem to appease the manager. It even seemed to offend him. There was always an undercurrent of tension between Stevie and Daniel, but it looked like tonight was the breaking point. 

“Don’t give me this bullshit.” Stevie drew himself to full height, and his voice boomed out of his chest. “What I want you to tell me is why you were even with Fernando when I explicitly told you you were off-duty today. You had no business being with him, much less enabling him to break the rules his managers set for him.”

“He was just bored! I dropped by to play video games.”

“Ever since the two of you became friends, Fernando has been different, and I don’t like it. You have been nothing but a bad influence on him.”

Dan recoiled. He’d been keeping himself in check but he couldn’t let that one pass. “I’ve been the one good thing to Fernando this entire tour. I know so many things that you don’t know about Fernando. You are his boss, but that’s it.”

Stevie laughed, incredulous that Dan was speaking up and that he had the gall to say what he just said. “You know nothing,” he enunciated every word. “You are a punk-ass kid that Xabi picked up from god knows where. You are here on a favour, and it would do you good to remember your place.”

“Do you ever notice how much you take out of him? You run the boy ragged, Stevie,” Dan accused. “You didn’t even stop until he got sick, and even then, you acted like you were doing everyone a favour by giving him a rest day. You treat him like property. Worse, you treat him like a child! For god’s sake, you even left Xabi with him just now to make sure he goes to bed!”

This was not the plan. Dan’s inner voice pleaded for him to stop talking. He was just meant to apologise, take the blame, go back to his room and lay low until Stevie calmed down. Temperance was not his strength.

Stevie matched Dan word for word. “You have not seen the things I have seen. There are artists more talented and more popular than Fernando who have never made it in this business and for no good reason. I’d be damned if the same thing happened to him just because we didn’t work hard enough and make the most of our opportunities.”

“I’m not saying you should — ”

But Stevie just talked over the Dane. His eyes were blazing with a righteous anger. “You say you know Fernando so well. Did you know that when he was starting, he busked on the streets just to get some exposure? He did that every weekend while he was in high school — no parties, no dates, no video games even. Just him and a guitar singing for pedestrians for hours.”

“One of my friends had seen Fernando one day and referred him to me. He’d never had a manager before, and he almost dragged me back to his house to meet his parents and get started. We spent more than a year just meeting with A&R executives. Most of the time, we paid for the travel out of our own pockets. By then, Fernando was in university, but he never once thought about quitting, not until he got signed by a label.”

“And then of course just because you’re signed with a label doesn’t mean you won’t get thrown scraps. We had to perform for the smallest radio stations and the shittiest events for a long time — events that only paid us with food stubs so we could have dinner after the show. And we had to fit all of that around Fernando’s class schedule.”

“So, if you’re telling me I’m overworking Fernando right now… Please. This is not hard work. This is the life. Maybe it’s not pretty or glamorous, like you expected, but this is what it looks like behind the scenes. And the only reason why we got here to begin with is precisely because we never, ever fell short of trying.”

Dan kept his gaze trained on the floor, his eyes starting to burn with tears of humiliation. Of course Stevie wasn’t going to stop until he had comprehensively schooled Dan. He was ready to walk out of the room with his tail between his legs, ego be damned. But then Stevie had to have a parting shot: “This may be just fun and games for you, Daniel, but if you really cared about Fernando, you would do well to let him get on with his job.”

It happened too fast. Dan exploded. “Of course I care about Fernando!” When he realised what he said, he clapped his hands over his mouth.

Now, Stevie had said that jibe to hurt. He intended it. He wanted to get a rise out of Dan. But he certainly wasn’t expecting that reaction.

“What was that?”

Dan shook his head furiously, his mouth still covered.

Stevie would have normally let it go. Dan’s words didn’t have to mean anything. It could have just been a slip of the tongue. But the pallor in Dan’s skin, the sweat across his forehead — they told a different story.

“Daniel!” Stevie barked, trying to get the boy’s attention, but even his order was limp. His anger was draining away, getting replaced by a dread that sat heavily in his stomach and made him feel sick.

Dan looked worse. He stared at Stevie like he was staring at a wall. His gaze was hard but empty.

“Did you mean that?” Stevie tried again.

“No.”

Stevie cleared his throat and tried to soften his tone. “But, are you…”

“No. No. I’m not. Of course not.” Dan went through all the permutations of denial. He sounded almost annoyed, but at himself. Like he had gone through this issue several times already, but he still lost his way before he got to the resolution.

“Daniel.” Stevie’s voice was soft. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

He knew, Dan realised. Stevie knew. He looked at Stevie in the eye for the first time in this conversation, and he nodded.

*

Fernando was too shaken, Xabi couldn’t calm him down. He’s never gotten into trouble with Stevie before, and he vacillated between being guilty and being defensive. 

“Do you think Stevie is going to stay mad at me for long? I really didn’t mean to break the rules, Xabi. Can you talk to him? I told him I was sorry, but he didn’t seem to accept it,” Fernando said, pacing the carpet back and forth.

“Stevie’s under a lot of stress right now. We’ve never done a tour this big before, and we’ve never had to cancel days’ worth of appointments either. It’s a tough time, so you have to be patient with him,” Xabi said.

“But you and Stevie know me. You know I wouldn’t do anything to compromise what we have right now.”

“We know that. I’m disappointed, of course, but I’m not mad at you. Just give Stevie time. Once we get back into our normal working schedule, he’ll relax.”

Fernando stomped his foot. “But it was just one time! Jesus. We’ve never even gone out this entire tour. All we’ve done is work. I’m so fucking tired of this.”

Xabi snapped. “It was a flagrant violation of the rules, Fernando. You should have known better. If you wanted to kick back and relax, you could have just told us and we would have given you permission.”

That silenced Fernando. Xabi was a good cop, but he wasn’t a pushover. He mumbled an apology.

Xabi eventually had to give Fernando some sleeping pills to get him to bed. They were going back on the saddle tomorrow, and they couldn’t afford a sleepless night.

“Xabi,” Fernando called out as the manager head for the door. He hesitated before continuing. “Do you think Stevie would fire Daniel?”

Xabi froze, his hand mid-air above the doorknob. “I’ll talk to Stevie.”

“Will you? I’m worried for Dan.”

Xabi turned to glance at the younger boy. “Why?”

A strange expression crossed Fernando’s face. He shrugged, “Just because this is all my fault.”

“Ok. I’ll see what I can do,” Xabi said, although the task of reasoning with his partner was daunting. Stevie had been furious when he left with Daniel, and Xabi had no idea what he could do when he lost his temper. Worse, he didn’t know how to explain his theory to Stevie.

“Honey, I think Dan and Fernando are attracted to each other,” Xabi practised as he made his way back to their hotel room. He heard his own words and even he thought he was crazy. The two boys met only months ago when they formed the tour group. They could very well be just close friends. Xabi couldn’t even confront Fernando or Daniel directly, and both of them evaded the issue altogether. How was Xabi going to convince Stevie?

When he got to the room, Stevie and Daniel were still there. Surprised, Xabi checked his watch. It’s been a while. They weren’t arguing. Their voices were hushed. And they shared a round of whiskey between them.

Xabi rapped his knuckles on the table to announce his presence. “Knock knock.”

Dan, interestingly, kept his head down. It was Stevie who greeted Xabi. “Hey, darling. We were just wrapping up.”

Xabi blinked. We were just wrapping up? That’s not what he expected to hear. Wrapping up firing Daniel? “I’m relieved to see that there didn’t seem to be a brawl,” he pointed out.

Stevie and Dan exchanged glances. “We had a productive talk,” Stevie said.

“A _productive talk_?”

Dan shrugged. “It only means I still have a job.” He stood up and cleared the glasses, bringing them to the kitchenette. “I’m gonna head out. See you both tomorrow.”

Xabi stood rooted on the spot. “Did I miss something?” He demanded.

Stevie laughed tiredly and approached his lover. “I just gave Dan an assessment of his performance so far, and he promised to do better.”

“Just like that?”

Stevie wrapped his arms around Xabi’s waist and held him close, resting his cheek on the Spaniard’s chest and exhaling slowly. “Just like that,” he murmured.

“Fernando was worried you would fire Dan.”

“As long as they don’t do this again, I’m willing to forget it all happened.”

“You’re acting unlike yourself.”

Stevie pressed a kiss to Xabi’s shoulder. “Well, it’s been a very strange day.” He looked up at his lover and flashed him a smile. He seemed exhausted and yet also more settled. “Let’s go to bed, hmm?”


End file.
